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.Trousers.How would it feel, to be shed of skirts? She would have to borrow a pair from Nicholas—and why had she never thought of it before?“Ah.” Darien noticed the object of her attention.Not surprising, though Clara was doing her best not to gape.“Baroness Dudevant.If she lights up a cigar, try not to emulate her.”“A cigar?” Clara blinked at the notion.What an odd, mannish woman this baroness was.“Trousers are one thing, but I’ve no desire to try that.Is she a musician?”“A writer, though she only pens little pieces for magazines as far as I know.But she appreciates good music, and has some interesting ideas about spirituality.”A jolt of jealousy went through Clara, sharp and hot and completely unexpected.“Does she? Do they include women picking up the dubious and unsavory habits of men?”“You find men dubious and unsavory?” Laughter laced his voice, and she felt her cheeks flame.“I said their habits.Which not all men share.”“If I ever take up smoking cigars, I shall endeavor not to do it in your presence.But what is wrong with wearing trousers? I think gentlemen would look quite odd in skirts.”She laughed at the image he invoked, and let the last shreds of jealously dissolve.“But think how grand you would be in performance, your skirts swishing to and fro as you played.”“Unkind.” He leaned closer.“Though I wouldn’t mind seeing you in trousers, Miss Becker.”His voice sent a shiver through her.Unfair of him to smile at her so, his eyes glinting with humor.To flirt with her in the crowded anonymity of a Paris salon.She stared back at him and his expression shifted, an intensity tightening his features while their gazes held.Held.The memory of reckless kisses burned in the air between them.At last Clara remembered how to breathe, and Darien looked away.“The piano is in the next room,” he said.She swallowed and attempted to make her tone light.“Then by all means, let us visit it.”An unremarkable melody filled the awkward silence between them as Darien led her to a settee near the piano.He settled beside her at a scrupulously correct distance, and Clara tried not to wish that he were nearer.She was too aware of the heat of him, his scent, the way his elegant, long-fingered hands were clasped loosely together.“Master Reynard.” A sandy-haired man sitting near them leaned forward.“Will you be playing this evening?”“Of course,” Darien said.“How can one come to la marquise’s and not play? I would be outcast in Paris forever.”The fellow pursed his lips and glanced at the young man at the piano.“Let us pray our lugubrious Hungarian friend finishes soon.I would like to hear some real music.”A woman seated behind Darien giggled.“Ah, Liszt is not so bad.If he would only apply himself, he could be great.”“Yes, madame, we all know where you would like him to apply himself,” the gentleman said.She swatted him on the shoulder with her fan.“You are only jealous because you have no talents that interest me.Now hush.I am trying to enjoy the concert.”The man rolled his eyes in mock disgust, but subsided.Clara listened, and found she was in agreement with the woman.Mr.Liszt played passably, with the sloppy technique of someone whose natural talent had taken them a certain distance, then left them there.Hard work would move him forward, if he were ever inspired to it.And she heard a hint of something interesting in the melody he played, like a silver glimmer of trout in deep water.If the man were patient and skilled, some day he might be able to fish up something wild and dancing and lovely.Perhaps she could say as much to him, without revealing herself as a composer.She glanced at Darien, and found he was watching her, his eyes unreadable as dark agates.No, it was too risky.The fellow at the piano would have to find his own way.Soon enough, Mr.Liszt brought his playing to a close.Clara made a point of clapping loudly, though her gloves muffled the effect.It seemed as though the dour-looking young man could use the encouragement.“Lovely!” the marquise said, sweeping up to the piano and gifting the assembled listeners with a glorious smile.“It is a pleasure to hear everyone, of course, but tonight we are particularly lucky to have Darien Reynard with us.And his talented new composer, Nicholas Becker.Please, take your seats, and do move closer together so that others may join us when they hear the maestro begin
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